Bang
by The Phantom Penance
Summary: Amidst the Alliance, the Cerberus terrorists, the Spectre betrayals, the Collectors mystery, and the Reaper myth lies one solid question: can't a guy make a honest buck?
1. Chapter 1

**(I DON'T OWN ANYTHING!)**

Fun Fact about me: I don't drink. Life is full of things that are initially enjoyable to the human body until the choke and kill the life out of you, alcohol is a more visual example of this truth. Plus it takes control of your body, I find myself thinking that I'm slightly above losing control of my body to a liquid substance in a glass cup.

That being said, why do I have a small glass of…..whatever right in front of me? Very simple: I finally have something truly worth celebrating about.

You see, today is my Fourth anniversary. Four years ago on the dot, I fell asleep on my soft, comfy bed only to wake up to futuristic cars, diverse aliens, and mass relays. At first, I was all like ' _Oh my God, this is so cool!'_ being that type of nerd, but that was before the hunger set in, and the thirst. The fear eventually followed afterwards.

I was alone, alone and million miles away from the one help that truly mattered. Maybe even farther than that.

That wasn't what sucked. What truly sucked was that I was old enough to (legally) take care of myself, and I was surrounded by a bunch of racist, alien business owners. As a African-American myself, racism is one of my big "zero-tolerance" policy list, but like typical racism, what I want doesn't particularly matter anymore. I had to adjust, adapt, get used to the new pecking order if I wanted to survive in this new society.

Three years ago, a Vorcha started picking a fight with me. I don't even remember what he wanted, maybe it was food or just a chance to muscle his way against a human. Well, he got more than what he bargained for, I pride myself in my ability to make others make themselves look stupid. By the time I was done with him, I'd made him too humiliated to look at himself in a mirror.

He was _soooo_ embarrassed after what I had done to him. Then he got angry. Then he pulled the gun. Then things got serious.

He was undeniably buff, but he was also slow. And not conditioned to pain. I sliced his wrist before he could fire a shoot, he yelled out in pain and dropped the gun into my, ever eager hands.

It could have ended there. Maybe he was mad- on second thought, he was _definitely_ mad, but maybe that would have been the end of it. He'd run off after seeing his gun pointed at his chest, maybe learn that humans may not be as gutless as he thought, and that would be that. But I'd never know, and neither would he.

He bared his fangs, and I pulled the trigger. Again. And again. And again. And again.

I was so scared. I cowered in my room, thinking that the police were gonna find me in the morning, the end of the week if I was lucky, and I didn't exactly throw away the gun. Most of all, I was horrified at what I had done, what I had become. It didn't matter if it was a game or a part of my imagination, it felt real enough to me. None of this would have happened in the real world, _I_ wouldn't happen in the real world.

Eventually, I got set in my mind that the police would never come and I found out why: they didn't have the body to even investigate. Turns out, my Vorcha friend was notorious for picking fights with the wrong people and got himself a price on his head, wanted dead or alive with a heavy emphasis on the dead part.

That bounty was my saving grace, more than I really knew back then. During the week, I embraced another truth of the universe: as long as there was at least two people in it, someone's gonna want the other person dead.

Thus, I went to contract killing, or bounty hunting if you're old fashioned like that. Don't get any ideas, I'm no Jango Fett or Thane. There's bias in the bounty hunting business too, major shocker. I get a fist full of contracts every while or so, and even then, I'm barely scraping at the top of the money pool.

It doesn't matter though. I've made a living in hostile territory against overwhelming odds, and to that, I dedicate this toast.

Surrounded by different species, drunk or otherwise, I raised my small shot glass. "Here's to four years of madness." I toasted, and slowly brought the glass near my mouth.

"Hey."

I sighed and turned my head at the….Batarian, ugly alien there, standing behind me.

"Can I help you?" I asked casually, no need making unnecessary strife.

"You're in my seat." The Batarian demanded. There goes my statement about unnecessary strife.

I glanced around as I dropped my right hand from the bar. There were no free seats. "Didn't notice, sorry. Let me finish up here, and I'll be out of your way."

"You'll be out of my way right now." He pushed. This is why I dropped my right arm.

Not yet, let's see if he can still be civil. "Pal, it's just a shot glass," I held up the glass. "Let me drink it, pay for it, then I'll leave the bar. It's not long."

"I've been standing for an hour," my fingers flicked open the button as he talked, "for that spot and leave for just four minutes, then I come back and see you in my seat? You're getting up right now, unless you want trouble."

I sighed, "I don't want trouble. In fact, I take certain precautions to avoid trouble."

Survival Technique #14: Always wear a trench coat, or a long jacket, both better be thick. Can be a little hot to wear sometimes, but they hide a lot, and you never know when you'll need to shoot somebody inconspicuously.

In essence: Three bullets left my pistol (and my coat) straight into the Batarian's gut.

I stared at the shot glass as the grunt fell to the floor. "I don't even want my drink anymore. _Now_ , you only had to wait for me to pay for it." I said more to myself than the Asari bartender. "I don't have to pay for it, right? I mean, I didn't _drink_ it."

"I poured the glass didn't I?"

I grumbled, "Cheapsake."

The Asari, Tila I think, examined the hard currency I gave her. "Nobody uses hard credits in a long while."

"It's still scannable, right?" I questioned as her Omni-tool fazed into existence. The ding sound and her care-less look confirmed what I wanted to hear.

"You a bounty hunter right? That guy you shot, he's got money on his head." She spoke once the transaction was good and done.

My ears perked up at the sound of money. "You sure? How do you know?"

Tila poured the drink out (to my displeasured). "I recognized his face."

I literally deadpanned. "You… _recognized_ his face. No offense, but Batarians all look alike."

"Don't be a racist," Tila scolded. "Don't believe me, scan his face, not like I really care."

Scan his face. Those words alone made me embarrassed. "Y-You wouldn't mind…. If I could just borrow for a quick sec…."

Tila sighed. "Should have known there was a reason you pay with hard cash."

"You try buying an Omni-Tool, not very cheap is it?" Apparently unafraid of corpses, Tila leaned down and took a camera shot of the Batarian. I leaned in close to get a good look at what the face picture would bring up.

"See? Char, wanted alive for a thousand credits-"

I kicked Char hard in the stomach, thanking God that I heard a groan. "Where's the contractor!?" I demanded as I hoisted him over my shoulder.

"154 West Side, t-that's just a couple blocks left of here-"

I was out that door before anyone could blink, running with a bleeding Batarian over my shoulder and the prospect of money wafing in my close future.

Sometimes, I've wondered about the far future, Cerberus, Commander Shepard (if he's a he or a she, that's been on my mind a lot), and the Reapers. I wonder about my place in this crazy world of Mass Effect and if I play a role in it at all. Maybe I will, maybe I won't. Either way, bills aren't gonna pay themselves and these bad boys aren't going to turn themselves in.

Happy Fourth Anniversary to me, four years of madness and far from being done.

* * *

 **New Fanfic! I'll be doing this right along with the Star Wars one and my other fanfics haven't been forgotten either. I'm putting them off a bit till I finish my other real-life activities in January. Like, comment, and review!**

 **May the Flames of Youth be with you, always**

 **SNEAK PREVIEW!**

" _ **Don't you know what you've just done!?**_ _"_

 _I looked back at Lo. He stared at me with absolute horror flashing in his eyes._

" _What? You've never seen a kill before?" I asked incredulously. Lo never seeing death in Omega? That was simply unbelievable._

" _No, not that!" Lo snapped. "That- that man was with Aria! Nobody %$* & with Aria!"_

 _I looked back at the Turian corpse. "He was a turn-coat and a coward, I'm sure Aria won't miss him."_

"' _Any moves against Aria's people is a move against Aria herself, against Omega itself.'" Lo recited like a man possessed, clutching his arms in desperate need of comfort._

" _O-kay, I get your point. What can we expect?" I asked._

 _Lo stared me straight in the eyes, his fear was unnerving me._

" _She'll send everything_ _."_

 _Well fu-_


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! The Phantom Penance has come back to life!**

 **Not as** _ **widely**_ **received as I thought, but you know, stick with something until its greatness is force fed down people's throats, and you can't go wrong!**

 **Let's get another chapter going!**

 **Chapter 2: Never going back (ever)**

 **(I DON'T OWN ANYTHING!)**

* * *

" _Cheap low life scum."_

I slammed the door to my apartment, the door taking the most of my sour mood. The short story about it was that the contractor was a spineless, lying, wheezer of a meatbag!

He was a Volus whose name I don't want to remember. The idiot got all jumpy at the sight of blood and lowered my pay! I threatened him with a bullet, and he had the guts to lower it again! Once he threatened not to pay me at all, I had to cut my losses.

I left, expecting to be a thousand credits richer, I came back with half that amount. Who in the Citadel can pay their bills with 500 credits, let alone buy more food, bullets, _and stitching for my holey jacket!?_

Sorry, I'm usually more reserved than this. It's just that, at the current moment, I'm a little bit _absolutely livid._

My apartment is far from Commander Shepard's spacious housing. No, mine is composed of one bland color, one very hard floor, an equally hard bed, a fridge, a bathroom, and my dreams. You don't need to know what I do for showers. Just be satisfied with the answer being I did what had to be done.

Oh, I forgot. I also have a window where I care for my lovely tomatoes.

Most aliens think humans to be impulsive brutes, demanding our way or the mass relays (they are _mostly_ right), but there is one thing that all aliens can call humanity's shining redeemer:

Our tomatoes are _insatiable._

So soft, so red, so plump full of violent tastes, as if humanity's violence has been stored inside of it to give it a good, strong flavor. Yessiree, the tomato business is where it's at if you want to get some side cash. Sadly enough, my side business gets me more credits than my actual job.

Nevertheless, when it comes to the fresh 500 credits I've got in my bank account, those bad boys are a priority above eating.

With nothing to do, I sat on my bed, took off my jacket, and took to my pastime hobby: watching the contract list and care for my gun.

The Judgement pistol. Small, sleek, standard black and white with a cool name. The common thing with weapons is that ammo isn't a problem since the mass effect field in guns takes little stuff, lowers the mass in that thing, and fires it off at super speed, but ammo still has a hefty price. It's a good thing I don't need much of it.

My eyes scrolled down the endless list of faces of people who had wronged someone in their life, and ogled at the number of zeros that made their bounty. These very naughty people….if I could get just one of those, I'd be set for a good couple of years. Get myself a decent apartment, some decent (human) food, and buy more land to make more tomatoes.

Yeah, I could see it already. Turning my humble tomato business into a galactic tomato corporation.

That is, before the Reapers destroy it all. Yes, way before that.

The message button on my microframe went off, meaning somebody was calling me. That's either very good or very bad. Nobody calls me for anything.

"Phantom Penance bounty hunter business, where we kill or capture indiscriminately-"

" _That name sucks."_ A hard-as-nails, take-no-prisoners, _female_ voice came through my screen.

Question: what's one level above humanist and one level below Cerberus terrorist? Sarah Plump, C-Sec officer and a secret admirer of yours truly.

It's bad enough that law enforcement are regarded as Satan's helpers, but add the fact that Sarah is a human, and you've got a girl who's seen a lot. Sarah's belief that humanity excelling as being the Alliance's greatest allies or worse pain in the neck will inevitably make the Alliance take humans seriously is a little out there, but I don't judge.

Kinda _can't_ judge since she had yours truly flat on my butt, cuffed, and a click away from getting some C-Sec officers to cart me away somewhere. My saving grace from indefinite confinement, my sob story of not being the greatest bounty hunters due to aliens not like working/hiring humans.

So, from time-to-time, she gives me heads up on certain contracts in my vicinity. Like she probably is doing right now.

"How dare you insult my glorious name! I have sweat and bled to have my own-"

" _I've got something for you. Shut up and listen a bit."_ Sarah rudely cut through. I opened the email she quickly sent me and was attacked by the most vicious mug shot I had ever seen.

This Turian had seen better days and _definitely_ looked better in them too. One wicked gash covered his entire face from top to bottom with staples keeping it together, another scar went over his now blind left eye, and a permanent scowl seemingly glued to him.

" _Name's Cailus Quinnion. Arrested for handling tons of Hallex and the murder of two C-Sec officers."_ Plump greeted.

I stared at the picture of the gangster. "Sounds like he should be in jail."

" _He should be. He paid bail before his trial, probably going to get his other friends to clean up his record."_

"And you want me to…"

" _Take him out. He doesn't deserve to be back on the streets and he's hanging with the right people who will make that happen. Cailus is one of the best with Hallex, the drug cartel won't let him off so easy."_ She explained.

I gave a soft chuckle. "So cold! Whatever would people say when they find out Citadel's finest houses police brutality?"

" _You haven't seen me brutal yet."_ She spoke as in the form of a warning. _"He's lounging about in Lower Shalta, go get him before his buddies do."_

"Now, I know that I'm working for the greater good," I began as I lazily reset my precious Judgement pistol, "and I'm all for it, but doing the right thing is not what's paying the bills right-"

" _Bounty's at three thousand, I know a Volus who wants him dead. Gives you an advantage of not having to deal with a hostage."_

"-which is why I will be on the next terminal to Ward Shalta, immediately. Bye!"

 **(LINE BREAK! TAKE THIS TIME TO ACTUALLY TAKE A BREAK, JOIN YOUR FAMILY!)**

* * *

 **(LINEBREAK OVER, YOU CAN COME BACK NOW…bet you never left)**

Ward Shalta, the Jersey side of the galactic cesspool.

It's a pretty simple Ward, the rich live on the top, the poor live on the bottom, and everybody's seen their fair share of violence. C-Sec tries, of course, but they aren't an army that can face against the corruption that's taken the ward, they can only contain it.

I don't mind the corruption really. Sure it's bad and all, but from an economic standpoint, corruption is both the fertilizer and the rain to make my work slowly and surely grow. It's like I always say, as long as there's two people on Citadel, someone's gonna want the other person dead.

Except there's not two people on the Citadel. There's five million, one on each Ward.

The Terminal rang for Ward Shalta, meaning it was my stop. Due to the horrible convenience of being poor, I travel very light for these little jobs. My equipment consisted of pants, a shirt, a brown (and fixed) trench coat to hold my pistol, a couple of clips, and all the luck of my ancestors on my side.

My body itched as I walked through the busy crowds. I hated moments like this, the calm before the storm, it always makes me question if I'm going over my head on this one. Adding the fact that this guy's part of the cartel only made the itching-and my attitude- much worse.

 _What if this guy's working for the kind of boss who's very territorial? Like, not only kills my employer, but also me?_

Take it from me, I don't fear death. I was afraid, but I've accepted the inevitable in, like, seventh grade. Death isn't my primary fear, but I still would much rather prefer to live. Even better, I'd prefer not to suffer before I die. Strange because I took myself to contract killing, knowing I'd be facing the prospect of death with every job.

But, you know, a man's gotta do what he can to survive, and I've got too bad of a record to get a respectable job.

"Now if I got my directions straight, Kaillos Avenue should be on the right…." An asari, helpful beings, advised me as we stared at the map together.

Was thinking about dating an Asari once. Of course, anybody with a quarter libido would agree, but I decided against it. Kinda sad, really. I swore to myself I'd live the life I never dared to in Mass Effect, and I'm still too scared to get the girl.

Forget that now, just spotted my lucky man.

Shoved unceremoniously out a market, Cailus swore (at least I think he swore, he said something loudly at the Batarian, so I can only assume….) and started to walk away from me.

"You're mine now," I cackled wickedly to myself. The first thing to do was pull back the safety in case something else comes up, then get close enough to deliver the kill.

As opposed to all the idiots on movies, I made sure to trail my target the _right_ way by getting far off to his side, but still a little bit behind Cailus. That way, should he ever turn to look back, he'd see me away from him which would persuade him to lower his guard and not think twice when I get closer. Up until the point he gets a bullet in his head.

Aw man, I love easy deals like this one. No rush, no fuss-

" _Ah! He's got a gun!"_

I don't know whether the idiot was referring to me or somebody else, but Cailus took off like she was referring to him.

" _Gghm…._ Shoot a monkey!" I growled in anger and (sadly) ran after the man.

 **(Line BREAK! Take this time to actually take a Break!)**

* * *

 **(Line Break done, back to work!)**

My heart burned, my legs tensed and I gasped what felt like my last breath.

This was the end of me. Death by exercise.

"I don't suppose you could just stop running and let me shoot you?" I wheezed to myself as the Turian ran off at that God-awful speed. He was a real Usain Bolt, this one. If I had known he was an Olympic athlete, I would have took him from afar.

Now he was gonna get away. I can already see his ugly, stitched face making a smile at outrunning me. Thinks he's so tough, so cool to outrun a _human_ bounty hunter, I oughta-

"My side!" I moaned, clutching my hip and the source of that weird pain we've all felt when running. That was it. I was done running for the day, time to play a little dirty for once.

I pulled out my Judgement pistol and took the safety off. Why did I have it on safety? I could lie to you and say that as a firm believer that guns kill, I wanted to be safe everywhere I go, but that is not the _real_ truth.

 _Because there is nothing more satisfying than pulling the safety and locking the hammer right before the kill._

 **BANG!**

Good news: I got him! Bad news: in the waist.

Now Usain Bolt from Space Jamaica was reduced to limping away instead of running, which is fine for me. Gives me the chance to finish the contract….halfway…up close and _very_ personal. No, I'm not a sadist bounty hunter, but I want him to know my displeasure for having to chance him down.

"You've got to be joking." I deadpanned at the roar of a cruiser, a cruiser that just so happens to be labelled by a trail of blood. Turian blood.

As the craft flew away, I stared down its owner, or should I say, former owner.

I've made up mind: If I can help it, I'll _never_ take a dead contract for Asari. Sure, they're cute, but their features reflected a sense of childhood innocence. Or maybe she just was innocent of the world, maybe she was visiting her family before some hillbilly took her out from behind, snuffing her life when it had just begun (or, at least I think it had just begun, never can tell with Asari).

Said hillbilly was _my_ responsibility. Had I had better aim….faster legs….

" _No freaking way."_ I gasped. On her wrist was a shiny Omni-Tool!

Yeah, "too soon," but she really didn't need it now, and it's a game! You know games, loot from fallen enemies?

"Hey, SP, guess who got a new, handy-dandy Omni-tool!" I greeted cheerfully.

" _Did you get him?"_ Sarah demanded. Guess she's the business before pleasure time. _Loooooong_ before pleasure.

"H-Heh heh…don't get mad…..but he might've got away-"

" _Idiot!"_

"I rebuke that! I graduated highschool!"

" _He'll be heading to Omega. No law-enforcement can touch him there."_ She replied.

Ooooh, Omega. The bad guys' paradise. I never dreamed I would go to Omega, it was too violent, reminded me of the bad spots of Chi-Town. Or, at the very least, I would go only with the protection of Shepard and his/her crew. They're beasts.

But it seems, little ol' me doesn't have a choice.

"You forget, _I'm_ not law enforcement," I reminded, "and I don't what we have between us isn't exactly 'by the books.'Imma catch a shuttle to Omega and finish the job."

" _You better. The Systems would be better off without him."_

"Sheesh, again with the police brutality!"

And with that note, I started my long journey into requiring a ship (hopefully, not by credits) that will take me to the worst planet in the solar system. With any luck, me being a bounty hunter would help me fit right in with the crowd of cutthroats.

 _Breaking the Fourth Wall for a bit, oh how wrong I was._

* * *

 **Chapter 2 completed!**

 **Well sirree, looks like I'm heading to the trouble of a lifetime (mostly because I just said it)! I wonder if I will survive? I seriously am tempted to kill myself in some stories sometimes, just to see if people would like it more or hate it.**

 **Oh well, tune in next time!**


End file.
